Downing in Loneliness

Fleyas POV:

A hollow emptiness gnaws at me, marking the absence where Nadya used to be. They took her away, wrenching her from my desperate grasp, her figure fading into a nightmarish abyss. I might never see her again, and the guilt gnaws at me like a relentless beast. If only I hadn't mentioned Orryn, if only I had kept my words locked away, she'd still be here. She wouldn't be in the clutches of horror, and I wouldn't be drenched in this unbearable loneliness. I miss her.

The resounding echo of the morning bell pierces the air, marking the start of a new day without her. I've spent the night huddled in despair, my tears soaking the cold stone beneath me. There's a part of me that wants to curl into a ball and drown the day in a flood of tears. But then, Nadya's sacrifice would be for naught, her brave face before the tormentors would have been in vain.

Dragging myself to my feet, I shuffle towards the corner of the cell that's reserved for the most basic of our needs. The sight of it still turns my stomach, but Nadya's practicality echoes in my head. She told me, no matter how disgusting it seemed, it was better to contain it to one spot, to avoid fouling the rest of the cell. We've had to improvise with whatever we could find since the jailers provide nothing.

Once done, I stumble towards the entrance of the working tunnel. Nadya's guidance has burned the path into my mind, but even without it, the ceaseless flow of prisoners heading in the same direction would guide me.

Arriving at the worksite, I look around for the familiar figure of Luthier, the guard who never failed to make our lives more miserable. His absence, although a relief, is also eerie. Nadya used to say that he never missed a shift. I fall into line with the others, scanning the pile of rocks for the smallest ones I could manage. They don't feel as heavy as they did before, Nadya's advice of lifting with my knees must be helping.

Nadya is smart, so very smart. Her wisdom is like a guiding star in this dark void, reminding me of my big brother. The thought of them sends a pang of sadness rippling through my heart, reminding me of the vast distance that separates us, and the cruel reality that I might never see them again.

The chilling realization settles in, I am all alone.

Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I fiercely blink them back. Nadya's words echo in my mind, a stern warning to never show vulnerability in this cold, merciless place. I have faith in her; she would never mislead me. She cares for me, she doesn't wish to see me hurt. Her advice is my shield in this hostile environment.

The day passes by in a haze, each minute blending into the next until I find myself once again confined within the cold walls of my cell. It's been a full rotation of the sun since I last saw Nadya. Fear gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, whispering sinister outcomes, but I stubbornly push it away. Nadya is a fighter, she won't leave me without a fierce struggle. She'll return. She has to. The hope is a fragile beacon in my heart, flickering uncertainly. I hold onto it tightly. Nadya is all I have, and I care for her deeply..

She must make it out of there, she has to survive. The thought of never seeing her face again, never hearing her soothing voice sing that haunting lullaby as she strokes my hair... it's unbearable. Nadya is more than a cellmate; she's my closest friend in this wretched place. I need her to be strong.

Days pass by but its the nights that are the worst. They're dark, they're cold, and they're long. Without Nadya by my side, they are also very lonely. I curl up on the hard ground, hugging my knees close to my chest, trying to stave off the biting chill. But the cold isn't the only thing I dread about the nights; it's the silence. The silence that engulfs the cell is suffocating, only occasionally broken by the distant cries of fellow prisoners or the clanging of the guards' batons against the bars.

Sometimes, in the quietest hours of the night, I find myself recalling stories Nadya would tell me. Tales of courage, tales of survival, tales of hope. I let my mind drift, and I imagine that she is here, her voice soft and reassuring, filling the cell with warmth and comfort.

My days start to take on a new routine. Wake, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Each step done mechanically, like an automaton. The guards rarely bother me now. It's as if they're giving me space, or maybe they're just bored. But their indifference brings me no relief. I yearn for Nadya's return, her absence felt more acutely with each passing day.

But amidst the fear and loneliness, a sliver of hope remains. Nadya is strong, she is resilient. And most importantly, she promised she'd return. As I close my eyes each night, I whisper a silent plea to the stars I can't see.

Bring Nadya back to me. Please, bring her back.